When I agreed to meet Vanessa for our first date, I knew it wouldn’t be a normal date. However, I never imagined I’d end up in a fancy restaurant, watching her ring a silver bell to be served like royalty. It was the start of one of the strangest evenings of my life.
I matched with a woman named Vanessa on a dating app. Her profile had a caption that said she was “high maintenance, but worth it.” I shrugged, thinking it was some kind of joke or just her way of standing out.
We texted for a few weeks. She seemed confident, maybe a little self-centered, but nothing that would set off alarm bells. At least not yet.
When we finally decided to meet in person, he suggested an upscale outdoor restaurant downtown. You know, the kind of place with craft cocktails and dishes that cost more than my entire weekly grocery budget. I thought, well, he has expensive taste. It’s our first date, so why not make it special?
Vanessa showed up in a stunning dress, as if she had just stepped out of a fashion magazine. But before we sat down, she pulled a shiny silver bell out of her handbag, and I thought it was some kind of quirky icebreaker or a funny accessory for the evening.
I laughed and said, “What’s that for? A secret weapon?” He smiled, but it was one of those smiles that didn’t reach his eyes.
We sat down, and before I could get comfortable, Vanessa rang the bell a couple of times. I thought, she must be joking. But no, she was dead serious.
Heads turned and I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me. Our waiter, a young man with a polite smile, approached the table.
“Can I help you with something, ma’am?” he asked, clearly perplexed.
“Oh, well, it works,” Vanessa said, completely serious. She ordered a cocktail as if she were in an exclusive club, without even bothering to glance at the menu. The waiter nodded with a puzzled look and walked away. I saw him raise an eyebrow and shrugged.
From then on, it was a disaster. Every time Vanessa wanted something – water, another drink, bread – she rang the ill-fated bell. Ding, ding, ding. It was unbearable.
The more she played, the more obvious it became that the staff was purposely ignoring her. They kept their faces perfectly straight, acting as if she didn’t exist. I sank into my chair, wishing I could disappear.
Finally, the manager, a middle-aged man with a calm demeanor, came over to us. He kept a perfectly straight face. “I saw her hitting the broken bell so hard that I thought I’d come and see if it was okay.”
Vanessa’s face twisted in disbelief. “Broken? It’s not broken. I’ve been wearing it all night.”
He smiled pleasantly. “There must be some problem. We didn’t hear anything back there. Maybe we should just rely on calling the old-fashioned way.”
I couldn’t help but snort, trying to suppress my laughter. Vanessa, however, was not amused. “This is ridiculous,” she snapped, glaring at the director.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any weirder, a guy sitting a few tables away stood up and walked over to us. He looked at Vanessa’s bell and then back at her. “Hey, that’s a great idea! How much will it cost me to get one of those?”
Vanessa, still trying to maintain her composure, replied, “About $20 online.”
Without missing a beat, the guy grabbed the bell from the table, rolled it up like a baseball pitcher, and threw it over the restaurant roof. He calmly pulled out his wallet, placed a $20 bill on our table, and returned to his seat without another word.
The whole yard erupted into laughter. Vanessa’s face turned bright red and she turned to me, her voice shrill. “Are you going to do something about it?”
I leaned back, laughing harder than I had all night. “Honestly, I’d love to do something, but that man just came up with a better idea than I could ever have.”
Vanessa snapped, crossing her arms. “Are you going to let that guy ring the bell for me?”
I snapped, trying to remain calm. “Vanessa, it’s not about the bell. It’s just… nobody here is into bells.”
She frowned, looking genuinely puzzled. “What do you mean? It’s effective. I don’t see the problem.”
I shook my head, smiling. “It’s not about efficiency. It’s about how you treat people. You don’t need a bell to get attention; you just need to be polite.”
Vanessa scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Please. As if they care. Their job is to serve us.”
When I just shrugged, she looked at me like I was crazy. Vanessa didn’t understand: she thought she was so clever with that bell, as if it was some genius move that everyone should applaud.
The truth was finally dawning on him: no one was impressed and the whole act had backfired. He demanded the bill, and when it came, he didn’t even pretend to offer to split it. By now I was ready to call it a night, so I paid and didn’t say a word.
As we walked toward the parking lot, Vanessa made one last comment, rolling her eyes. “Some people don’t appreciate class.”
I couldn’t help but smile with satisfaction. “Yeah, well, class is hard to find these days.”
He didn’t seem to get the hint, or maybe he just didn’t care. Either way, he knew it would be the last time he would see Vanessa and her bell.
The lesson? Sometimes entitlement not only makes you look bad, it makes everyone around you wonder what the hell you were thinking. And that bell? I’m sure it’s still on the roof, where it belongs.
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This work is inspired by real people and events, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher do not guarantee the accuracy of events or the depiction of characters, and are not responsible for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and the opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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